Girl in the Green Sweater
by james bezerra
Girl in the green sweater
who did
that great thing where
she laid next to me drunk,
blue bulb bedroom,
where she held her cigarette
out to
my lips
and I just
do nothing but breathe
and puff and blink
and want her
not to go.
Her breasts
and the metal through her lip.
She didn’t even speak.
Her gravity well body, Marlboro smoke,
her smirk,
the sound of her ripped black nylon thighs sliding against each other
when she
crossed and uncrossed
her legs,
this is all
wicked, mean foreplay.
Propped on an elbow over me,
watching me
wanting her.
Almost knowing
she is giving
me this moment
before running her tongue across
my lips
without
even dropping her cigarette. .
.
.
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